Ann has been a writer since junior high, but to pay the bills she has waited tables, delivered newspapers, cleaned other people's houses, taught school, and had a stint as a secretary in a rock-n-roll radio station. She also worked as a 911 operator and a police dispatcher. Her fiction began to win awards during her college days. Since then she's published several short stories, novels, and novellas. She’s always reading and always writing, but even if she never sold another story, Ann would not stop writing. For her it's a necessity, like breathing. Most of the time, it even keeps her sane.
No matter who dares you, no matter what lures you, do not go in the spooky old house…
Snippet:
“I was alone.” His voice was a whisper. “We all are.”
The wind kicked up as the words left his mouth. A gust caused Lady to shift her feet as the chill air ruffled her fur. The moonlight fell in slanted beams.
I had to say something to break that awful silence. “Sure you don’t you want to sit in my dad’s truck?”
He gazed down at Lady. “She knows I have to go.” He smoothed her fur absently. “She’s been there before.”
I remembered the day I’d found her half-dead beside the road, the victim of a hit-and-run driver.
The man’s gaze rose to my face.
His eyes were the same silvery color as his hair.
His eyes were the same silvery color as his hair.
The siren was deafening. I looked over my shoulder thankful to see the pulsing strobes. “Here!” I waved my flashlight at the emergency vehicle.
I turned back to the pilot, but he was gone.
There was only Lady, trotting off across the field.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please leave your comments below.